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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30011691">I want everything you have</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_of_the_Spirit/pseuds/Lady_of_the_Spirit'>Lady_of_the_Spirit</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - Gods &amp; Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Human, F/F, Gen, Light Angst, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self-Indulgent, The Wicked + The Divine AU, What Was I Thinking?, celeste is here because I think she's cool, you don't need to know wicdiv to read this btw</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 21:20:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,889</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30011691</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_of_the_Spirit/pseuds/Lady_of_the_Spirit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Andy is twenty-three years old and has heard of the Recurrence all of twice in her entire life. If she had heard of it more than that, she would still say it's bullshit. God isn't real, and there's no reason not to extend that same non-belief to every other religion. She's polite like that. </p><p>She hears about it in passing. The last one came in the 1920s. The next is going to be soon. </p><p>Bullshit, she thinks, pouring another shot. </p><p>Or: Every ninety years, twelve gods return as young people. They are loved. They are hated. In two years, they are all dead. The year is 2019. It's happening now. It's happening again.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Andy | Andromache of Scythia &amp; Lykon &amp; Quynh | Noriko, Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Quynh | Noriko</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Andy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'm being so self-indulgent in writing this and I don't care. </p><p>So you don't NEED to know the plot of The Wicked + The Divine to understand this, but here's a basic summary: The Pantheon is a group of teens and young adults who discover they are reincarnated deities from various world mythologies. They gain fame, fortune, and supernatural powers, but at a price: they all die within two years after becoming gods. The story is set from the perspective of Laura Wilson, who isn’t one of the Pantheon but wants to be (and frankly is a wonderful lead). This series includes gore (mostly mild), death, sex (mostly just the aftermath), and violence, but it’s wonderfully told and the art is amazing. The cast is literally FULL of both POC and LGBTQ+ characters so if you're into all of that, I'd highly recommend it. </p><p>For right now we're just gonna see how this whole thing goes.</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Andy's not having a good night.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>every ninety years, twelve gods return as young people. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>they are loved. they are hated. in two years, they are all dead. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>the year is 2019. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>it's happening now.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>it's happening again.</em>
</p>
<hr/><p>1. Andy is twenty-three years old and has heard of the Recurrence all of twice in her entire life. If she had heard of it more than that, she would still say it's bullshit. God isn't real, and there's no reason not to extend that same non-belief to every other religion. She's polite like that. </p><p>She hears about it in passing. The last one came in the 1920s. The next is going to be soon. </p><p><em>Bullshit</em>, she thinks, pouring another shot. There's a long night ahead of her, pouring drinks and bringing appetizers and watching the idiots around her drink the night away. If she were any better than them, she'd probably pity them or hate them. As it is, she doesn't feel any way about them, unless it's annoyance when they pass out or throw up or she has to kick them out the door. She's stuck here just the same as they are. </p><p>She hates that she can see herself staying stuck, floating in-between. But there's nothing she can do about it. </p><p>Andy takes out the trash later that night and then finds that she forgot to prop the door open, locking her outside. She's going to have to go around to the front to get back in. She kicks the side of the dumpster and then drops onto the doorstep, pain shooting through her foot and into her leg. She ignores it and looks up at the sky. </p><p>She used to be able to see the stars in her old town. Here in the city, the light pollution is too bad. She can't see anything. </p><p>It's cold out. It hasn't quite hit autumn yet and while the chill isn't biting, it isn't comfortable, especially in a thin black t-shirt. Andy sighs, rubs her leg, and looks around. She has to get back inside soon.  </p><p>An old woman is standing nearby and is staring right at her. Andy's eyes go from the draping fabrics she wears to the millions upon millions of wrinkles to the mask before she meets the woman's eyes. They glow purple in the dark and Andy has only a second to think "Motherfucker" before she falls. </p><p>
  <em>"You are of the Pantheon. You will be loved. You will be hated. You will be brilliant. Within two years, you will be dead." </em>
</p><p>The woman's voice ripples all around her, cold and terrible and powerful.</p><p>
  <em>"You are he whose name has been lost. You remain as a reminder of inevitability. Of the end of all things. Of their beginnings." </em>
</p><p>Andy lands on her feet and the pavement cracks under her. Smoke rises from her feet and curls through the air in intangible, ephemeral swirls, and she can feel that same constant shifting, constant changing within her bones. She is still Andy, but she is not <em>Andy</em> - she is something more, but she does not know what. </p><p>Her clothes have changed, and her hair, but she does not care for that. The old woman - Ananke, Andy knows her name more than she knows her own - raises her arms. Not for a hug, but like she is delivering a sermon. </p><p>"We meet again. I have missed you." </p><p>"Who am I?" Andy asks, even as Ananke reaches to embrace her. Andy hugs her back because some part of her, deep down and all but forgotten, remembers her and remembers <em>this</em>.</p><p>"I do not repeat myself." Ananke holds Andy's face in her old, gnarled hands. "Your name would mean nothing, now. You are the first. Satisfy yourself with that."</p><p>There's a pounding in her mind like the rhythm of ancient drums, the echo of lost melodies burning in her lungs. It aches. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So Andy, fitting for her original character, is meant to be a prehistoric god. I was reading about the Lion Man/Löwenmensch figurine theorized to have been a prehistoric deity when I had the idea, so for the most part that is what I'm picturing, but it could literally be any prehistoric god lost to the ages.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. interlude i</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>the first shot of Quynh, and Andy's first performance.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Quynh sits amongst a few other people in a bar, all curious to see if the rumors are true. Word of the first god had leaked to only a few people and fewer still believe it's true. Quynh doesn't know if she believes, but she does not want to be the one to miss it if it is. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The First One walks out of the backroom and steps on stage. Quynh studies. A woman with a pixie cut of dark brown hair with a shock of gold cutting through - the colour reminds Quynh of lion's fur. She dresses in simple black pants and a shirt. She does not look impressive, but Quynh doesn't believe that's true. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Quynh is surprised to see the woman is her age. Somehow she thought divinity would make one look older, but the First One is just as young as her. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>But the First One opens her mouth and- </em>
</p><p>
  <em>It is not singing. It is not even a sermon. It is a sensation. It pounds in Quynh's blood and skull, like the beating of a thousand war drums, like warriors riding into battle on horseback, like the chanting of high school students in a ring around two fighters. It speaks of eras long past, forgotten histories, and it speaks of rebirth and beginnings, that everything born must die but first, it must be born. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>It is all and it is everything. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>When it is over, the First One is gone - disappeared while her audience was trying to catch their breath. Many of them are doubled over, lying on the floor, sweating, the power too much for them. Quynh remains standing, her shirt soaked through, but refusing to collapse. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I legit don't have a plan for this fic.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Quynh</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Quynh arrives.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I am straight up just vibing right now.</p><p>Even in an AU Quynh can't escape from drowning, whether metaphorically or literally. (so warnings for that.)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>2. Quynh wants it. She wants all of it. She wants to make the earth shake when she sings. She wants to make people feel as she had during that first performance and every one she's been to since. </p><p>The First One, whose real name is still unknown, is still the only god, and while she can have her pick of venues to perform, she always goes for the smaller ones - the bars, the parks, one memorable performance in a train station at midnight. Quynh makes an effort to be there every time. </p><p>She thinks the First One has noticed her more than once. No matter how big the crowds become, Quynh feels her eyes lingering, and Quynh thinks she could drown in the endless depths of her eyes and everything they've seen.</p><p>It is both terrifying and intriguing, and Quynh thinks she understands the <em>real</em> appeal of the Pantheon. </p><p>Quynh stays after one performance in the park. It's been weeks since the First One's ascension and autumn has come. It's cold but Quynh has known colder. Has plunged headfirst into the kind of cold that seeps into your bones and stays for hours, days after. Tonight, even under a warm jacket, the cold bites at her exposed skin and almost makes her shudder. </p><p>Quynh falls back onto the grass, ignoring the damp. She closes her eyes and inhales the chill in the air until she almost chokes on it. She wants to not need air. </p><p>There's a rustle in the grass and Quynh snaps to attention. She bolts upright and looks. </p><p>An old woman is standing just a few feet from her in the most elaborate getup Quynh has ever seen. Violet glows in the dark. </p><p>When Quynh lands, the grass around her is dead and brown. Her hair is unbound and falls in waves down her shoulders, changing from black to dark blue to only slightly lighter blue. Her concert outfit is now a dress of the darkest blue, the blue of the depths of the ocean, with a cape hanging from her shoulders and attached to her wrists made of rope, woven like a net. </p><p>"We meet again, Rán," Ananke says. "I have missed you."</p><p>Quynh throws her head back and laughs, her breath forming clouds in the air. The cold in the air no longer bothers her, because now she feels the cold of the ocean depths in her blood and bones and it has never felt more right. </p><p>She approaches the First One on her own. </p><p>"It's nice to finally meet you." </p><p>The First One stares. "Who are you?"</p><p>"Rán."</p><p>"No." The woman is still staring. She licks her lips, almost... nervous? "Who are you?"</p><p>Quynh smiles - because she is still Quynh, underneath it all, but now she is more, so much more, and it is at once overwhelming and exhilarating. "My name is Quynh."</p><p>The First One holds out her hand. "Andromache. You can call me Andy. Nice to finally meet you, too, Quynh." </p><p>Quynh takes her hand and holds it. "You've been alone a long time, Andromache. Not anymore."</p><p>The First One, <em>Andromache</em> smiles back and Quynh still thinks she could drown in her eyes, but Andromache will drown in her. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Wikipedia: In Norse mythology, Rán is a goddess and a personification of the sea and the ruler of the realm of the dead at the bottom of the sea to which people who have drowned go.</p><p>Me: oh I know who you are, Quynh. </p><p>The grass was dead because salt is bad for grass and the sea is salt water. I'm overthinking this.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. interlude ii</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lykon observes.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Lykon is sitting in the university library trying to focus when his phone suddenly blows up with Twitter notifications, all about the same thing.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>There's a new god. The First One is no longer the only one. The second is Rán, Norse goddess of the sea and the drowned. There are already photos and videos of her first performance, which had concluded only three minutes ago. The videos are shaky and static, fuzzing in and out. When Lykon plugs his headphones in and listens, though, the song remains clear throughout. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Lykon has heard that filmed performances are not the same, that the meaning is lost, but for him, he hears everything.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It is an endless wail, rising and falling like waves cresting hundreds of feet over the surface of the ocean before crashing down. It is unforgiving and cold. It knocks him off his feet and pulls him under and leaves him gasping. It leaves him feeling empty and so, so small, a single speck within an endless sea that will swallow him whole and spit him out only if he's lucky. The ocean keeps her dead, the song promises. All life came from her and one day she will take it all back.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And fuck, when it's over, he finds he's broken out in a cold sweat. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>When he takes a few deep breaths and manages to control his heart rate, he slowly goes through the photos, avoiding the videos. He's had enough of those for one day. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Rán is a woman who looks only a little older than he is, the same age as the First One. She's Asian, dressed far more fashionably than the First One, from the few photos Lykon has looked at. Standing on stage - s</em>
  <em>he had wanted a proper first performance and sung at a performance hall, yet allowed filming to reach more people, the tweets say - s</em>
  <em>he is confident, exuding all the power of the ocean she represents. A picture of her mid-song shows her with her hands flung into the air, her head thrown back, hair a swirl of black and darkest blue around her face. She says the chaos of the ocean lives within her and Lykon can believe it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>But she is only twenty-three, and with all of that power coursing through her, she will be dead before she is twenty-five. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Lykon studies the photos of her post-performance. The First One has joined her on stage, not to perform but to support - what would two gods performing together even be like, if one god performing is enough to undo an entire hall of people?  They are standing close together, holding hands, and of course Twitter is blowing up about that, too. They look at each other in one picture and they look young, alive, eyes bright and shining. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Death is waiting for them, but Lykon thinks, for now, death can wait. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I looked at pictures of Florence Welch for inspiration for Rán because honestly how can you look at the woman while she's performing and NOT think she has some kind of divine power within her. </p><p>Andromaquynh moves fast in this verse because when you've got only two years instead of eternity there's no time for any slow burn (though some wicdiv couples had the opposite approach).</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Lykon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lykon is afraid, until he learns how not to be.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>um, potential trigger warnings for discussions of death? (But this is the Old Guard so you should expect that.)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>3. Lykon, by all rights, should not be alive. An accident as a child - <em>If the car had hit just a few inches to the left </em>- and an illness as a teen - <em>If he makes it through the night - </em>had left him with no illusions about the fairness of life or the promise of a tomorrow. </p><p>The Pantheon draws him in, for this reason, more than any other. Their days are numbered from the very first breath they take and unlike everyone else around him, they know it and embrace it. They do not fear the unknown. They do not try to pretend death won't ever come for them. They know and they face it and in exchange, they are living their best lives. </p><p>At least these women are. Lykon's side-project, after working on gaining his bachelor's in history, is studying the Pantheons through the ages. There is at once so much and yet so little - fully detailed records of some, others all but wiped from the books - and many Pantheons have fallen apart before their two years are over. </p><p>Lykon would be lying if he says he isn't interested to see how this one plays out. </p><p>So he goes to the concerts he can afford to see. More often than not it's the First One - Andromache, or Andy, the news reports say, those rare few who actually manage to get an interview with the elusive celebrity - since even when she finally starts filling up entire concert halls, she still likes to spend time in the smaller areas, the bars and the parks. Rán - a woman formerly known as Quynh, who loves the interviews and shares only in vaguely threatening poems - will often come with her and perform after her, especially in the parks. She's said once the ocean cannot be confined to a single room. </p><p>They both scare him. The embrace of the unknown, of death and the end of all things. </p><p>So Lykon goes. And he watches as they go through another performance, another hour ticked off their limited lifespan, and he <em>wishes</em>- </p><p>And then he goes home. He crosses the street after looking both ways, makes sure to stay on well-lit streets, and he gets home, eats something healthy, and goes to sleep. </p><p>Another day. Another tomorrow. Another unknown. </p><p>He comes home and there's a woman, an old woman, sitting on his bed and waiting for him. </p><p>Lykon's so stunned that he stares for three seconds before he asks, "Who are you?"</p><p>"Inevitability," she says calmly. Her eyes glow, and then he's falling through the dark.</p><p>
  <em>"You are of the Pantheon. You will be loved. You will be hated. You will be brilliant. Within two years, you will be dead." </em>
</p><p>He's falling through the dark, and he feels as though he is being wrapped. From his head to his toes, something is wrapping around his limbs. Something soft. It is as comforting as it is restricting and it is... warm.</p><p>
  <em>"Lord of what lies beneath us. You are the guardian of judgement."</em>
</p><p>It unravels and it feels like a loss.</p><p>
  <em>"Of fate. Of the lost. Of the found."</em>
</p><p>Lykon lands - except he is not Lykon, not really, not anymore, and when the woman speaks again, she only confirms what he already knows. </p><p>"We meet again, Anubis. I have missed you." </p><p>Lykon remembers Ananke. He remembers her hug, and he returns it when it is offered to him. </p><p>As they embrace, he takes note of how his clothes have changed, have become flowing black silk and gold and white patterns, how his arms are now marked with tattoos mimicking the gauze wrappings of a mummy, and he laughs quietly.</p><p>The first time he uses his powers is to drop into the Underworld. It is exactly what he thought it would be. It has been abandoned for ninety years now, and Rán has not come yet. (Can she? A death god who is also an ocean god? He'll have to ask her.) It is dark and cold and he-</p><p>He is not afraid. This is where he is meant to be. This is <em>who</em> he is meant to be. </p><p>He is not afraid and he will never be again. </p><p>Anubis meets the two women with a smile. The First One grins broadly and shakes his hand. Rán embraces him, brother and sister of death. They laugh and the First One slings her arm around Rán and his shoulders and insists on taking them back to her place for a drink. She has a penthouse, far above the people of the city, and they sit around on her couch and drink together. </p><p>"Anubis. Another death god?" Andy notes, peering over her beer with a raised eyebrow. "I mean, I don't know if I really count as one or not." She shrugs her shoulders and Lykon can tell she tries not to look as bothered as she must be. Everyone knows no one knows who she's meant to be.</p><p>(Lykon, when he was a student (how can he go back to that life now?), had gone a little crazy trying to go through records and find any patterns, to find who she might be. Now he knows. She is Andy.)</p><p>"Not exactly a good omen, one would think," Quynh says.</p><p>"It's a reminder," Lykon corrects her. "To our audiences. To us."</p><p>"Of our fate?"</p><p>Andy has her hand on Quynh's shoulder and Lykon sees the tightening of her grip. </p><p>"Of what will become of us in two years. And them, too, someday. We are a reminder of all of the things they would rather forget, push aside, or fear." Lykon smiles. "But they shouldn't."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Lykon is complicated bc I love him and I want to get him right but he really has no set personality so he could be whoever I want him to be and it makes him harder to write. </p><p>I was picking at this chapter for hours before I just posted it.</p><p>For those who aren't familiar with the WicDiv world (and if I haven't mentioned this before), the gods have magical powers/abilities even beyond their performances. For the death gods, they have the ability to travel to the Underworld, which is... basically a big black space in the underground they can travel to at will and also live in. I realize I haven't addressed the powers beyond performing in this much so this may start me bringing it up more often or not, we'll see.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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